


Worth The Wait

by naturesinmyeye



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Episode 4, F/M, Game of Thrones - Freeform, I meant for this to be more angst, Missing Scene, POV Sandor Clegane, Season 8, but it got slightly romantic, damn it, sansan, sansan lives, the hound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 07:57:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18752248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naturesinmyeye/pseuds/naturesinmyeye
Summary: A fill in for what my heart says happened after Sansa walked away in episode 4 of season 8.





	Worth The Wait

_Breathe._

 

Sandor exhaled, his body relaxing and the corner of his mouth twitching from something altogether unexpected. Had he ever smiled so much, in such a short time, in all his life? No, was the answer, his mind gave him. Never.

 

Sansa had spoken to him; looked him straight in the eye without faltering. She’d sought him out and forgiven his sins against her, taking his hand and, fuck him, licking her lips and staring him down with a wolf’s sharp gaze that clearly said she’d welcome him into her bed.

 

He watched her go. Sansa didn’t turn around, but she walked slow enough for his eyes to follow. Sandor turned his attention back to the pitcher of wine on the table, his foot tapping under the table. Was she truly willing to have him? His fingertips rapped against the stem of his glass, as ruby red liquid inside trembled. Was he seeing things clearly?

 

“One way to find out” he mumbled to his half-cup of wine, standing and leaving it behind. He weaved his way past revelers, still celebrating their victory, and bumped against the corner of a table in his haste.

 

The archway Sansa had disappeared through led to a long, stone corridor, lit by candlelight. Every third alcove cast a warm, orange glow over his surroundings. He couldn’t see her, but he could _smell_ her. The scent wasn’t soft like it was back at the Red Keep. Not entirely. There was woods and fur and spice in the mix now.

 

A shadow shifted in one of the doorways, and Sansa spoke. “You shouldn’t keep a Lady waiting,” she said, stepping from her hiding spot.

 

Sandor shrugged, but offered an open hand. He wasn’t a Knight and she knew it. “I didn’t finish my drink,” he explained, in place of an apology. “You could have left.”

 

She took a step closer, moving into a space that was no longer his or hers. Now it was _theirs_. Sansa reached for his hand, sliding her palm against his. “Perhaps, this is worth the wait,” she said, “shall we find out?”

 

********************

 

Silently, she led him through the passages of Winterfell to her chambers. A large fire was blazing in the hearth, and Sandor blinked, adjusting to the new lighting. Sansa left his side, bolted the door, and began removing her jewelery and hairpins, setting them on a dresser along with other small trinkets and silver adornments. The surface of her furniture wasn’t covered in silks and dolls any longer, but it seemed she still liked to keep her space littered with objects that made her happy. She walked to a table set with food and drink, and picked up a bottle of amber liquor.

 

“Another?” she asked.

 

A pause, and he answered. “No,” he said, truthfully. Fuck wine at a time like this!

 

Sandor stepped farther into her room, taking in the details. A corset thrown in haste over the back of a chair. The furs of white Shadow Cats covering the stone floor. The ivory handled hairbrush lying atop her neatly made bed. He swallowed. It had never been like this before. Not with the likes of her. Not with someone he felt something for.

 

They both moved at the same time, meeting in the middle of her room. They should have kissed, and yet they looked instead, waiting on the other to bridge the small gap between them.

 

“I’ve never had a man for pleasure,” she whispered, eyes never leaving his. “Or love.”

 

His good brow raised. “That what your after?” He could certainly provide one of her needs, but the other?

 

The other was terrifying.

 

“Let’s start with the first,” she said, raising onto her toes to lay a hand below his jaw and draw him into the sweetest kiss he’d ever had. It was strong, but not forceful; the taste of her floral white mixing with his sour red.

 

It lingered. It savored. It _desired_. And when it was over, they both knew it was right.

 

“You want this?” he asked, a last thought and plea all rolled into one.

 

Sansa’s chin lifted, the playful smile from earlier in the evening back on her lips. Her head tilted, the smallest fraction, but he saw it.

 

“I trust you,” she said, eyes sparkling with truth.

 

Sandor moved quickly then, cupping her face with both his hands, thumbs stroking her jaw as he kissed her. His lips followed the trail of his fingers to her ear and back down again. He hadn’t had much use for seduction in his lifetime, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable. “I won’t hurt you, Sansa,” he breathed into her mouth. “Never.”

 

Sansa sighed as he dug his fingers into the back of her neck, working at muscles set tight with stress. “I know,” she said. “I’ve known that for a long time.”

 

Her hands, that had been spread across his jerkin, suddenly left his body, and he realized she was working at the buttons of her dress. “Here,” he told her, brushing her hands aside, and taking on the task himself. He went by feel, continuing to kiss her as button after button came undone, until she was able to shrug out of her garment. She pulled back, to step out of her pile of cloth, and he gave her his hand to keep steady. Then she was loosening the ties of his jerkin, as he gave her a questioning look.

 

“I want to,” she said through a smile; the knots in his leather succumbing to her nimble touch, while his blood began to pool and rise and _ache_.

 

He let her have her way with the jerkin, and then gently spun her around, to start at the laces of her corset. He took his time, memorizing each curve to her shoulders, and the twin dips near her neckline. He suckled behind her ear and felt a rush of dizziness when she giggled and said his beard tickled.

 

The ties of her corset were thick enough for his fingers to loosen them, and he was careful to leave it just tight enough to still cling to her body. Sansa turned when he paused, and gave him a thankful look before tugging at the sides of the corset enough to remove it on her own, as he pulled his tunic over his head.

 

There was hunger in her eyes before she kissed him again; her fingers roaming over his chest and through course hair. She still had her small clothes, but the light of the fire had cast her silhouette within them, and he’d seen, and he _knew_ what a gift he’d been given.

 

Sansa’s hands continued to explore him, as he pulled the linen of her small clothes down, slowly and purposely; past her shoulders, past her breasts, as he leaned and then knelt before her to kiss what he had discovered. He started when his lips met puckered skin.

 

Sandor pulled back, turning Sansa slightly towards the fire to get a better look at her. There was no mistaking the mark on her skin, near her navel, and the other close to her hip. He knew burns well enough. His hands kneaded her lower back and he felt the thin wisps of scars left by a blade.

 

He looked up at her sorrowfully.

 

“He told me I’d never be beautiful to another,” Sansa said. Her tone was strong; every bit the woman of the North she’d become, but Sandor saw the hurt in her eyes. “He said I’d never again be perfect.”

 

Sandor rose and pressed his forehead to hers. “He failed.”

 

**************

 

He gave her what she’d asked for. With his mouth, with his cock, with his hands. He showed her how to take the reins; how to ride her man and find her pleasure. He told her she’d learn to give back, if that was her wish, though he spilled that night nearly as many times as she’d shivered and shook and moaned out his name.

 

And when the morning light woke them, tangled and sweaty beneath the furs, she smiled at him and said, “it was worth the wait.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
